


send away for a priceless gift

by Sway



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve, Post-Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:12:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8912140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sway/pseuds/Sway
Summary: After getting released from prison Mike struggles to get his life back in order. When he gets into an accident just before Christmas, Harvey calls for an intervention.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jonibeloni (Joni_Beloni)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/gifts).



> Many thanks to the lovely mods of this Secret Santa for your hard work and your patience *coughs* 
> 
> And of course to my lovely betas for trying to make sense of my writing.
> 
> The title is from "45" by Shinedown.

Mike doesn’t take the job.

Harvey should have known.

That Mike hadn’t given him an answer right away should have been a clue. That he still hadn’t given him an answer three weeks later should have made it obvious. That they hadn’t seen each other for another four weeks after that and only exchanged the occasional text message should have made it all clear.

It takes Louis barging into Harvey’s office, babbling about some situation - no, not a fire and no, not a zombie apocalypse either - to confirm it for Harvey.

The situation turns out to be a fight between Rachel and Mike. As per Louis’ reenactment, Rachel had even thrown something at Mike.

That’s when Harvey knows.

Mike won’t take the job.

He doesn’t come by Harvey’s office that day, but he shows up on his doorstep eight hours later. He looks tired, slightly disheveled, and has a backpack slung over his shoulder.

Harvey offers him a drink and a bed for the night, and Mike takes both with equal eagerness.

“It might not be just the one night,” Mike says as he drops his excuse for luggage on the bed in the guest room.

“I figured.” Harvey gives him his best smile even though he doesn't quite feel it. “Goodnight, Mike.”

 

*

Harvey’s days have become even longer than before. Ever since Jessica left for Chicago, he and Louis have been trying to keep what was left of the firm afloat. It has taken a toll on them both, but for some reason (that reason’s name is Tara, but Harvey can’t bring himself to admit that) Louis is doing a better job at navigating through all the obstacles in their way.

Harvey himself works fifteen hours a day, sometimes sixteen, trying to sign clients. It’s shitty legwork and he hates most of it. He’s good at negotiations, pulling strings, closing deals. Sucking up to people has never been his forte, but now it’s all they have left.

So he leaves for the office at 7am and doesn’t return before nine in the evening (if it’s a good day). Most nights he grabs some food on the way home and goes over the papers he’s brought with him while he eats.

Tonight, he finds Mike sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, the table cluttered with various printouts, a bottle of beer and a take-out carton in front of him.

“Hey,” Harvey says lamely. If he was perfectly honest with himself, he had completely forgotten about Mike.

“You’re home late.”

“Yes, dear. Father’s home late so he can provide for the food on your table.” Harvey doesn’t quite feel the anger he’s trying for. He’s too tired and some part of his brain has come to a screeching halt at Mike’s use of the word ‘home’.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s all right. I’m just… Is that Wa Jeal?” He gestures at the take-out container.

“Pulled pork, yeah. You want some?”

“Trade you for some Gharwali Chicken?!”

“Only if it’s Papadam’s.”

“Do I look like a peasant to you?”

Mike grins at that. “A very tired peasant, yes.” He gets up and accidentally sends a stack of papers flying. “Get you a beer? The pork is spicy.”

“Yes, please. I’ll grab a quick shower. I got hugged by Louis today.”

“My condolences.”

Mike takes the take-out bag from Harvey and gets busy in the kitchen while Harvey sets off to take the shower.

He makes short business of it, washing off the office grime, taking the brief moment of just being by himself. When he’s done, he dries himself off and slips into cotton pants and a plain white t-shirt.

Meanwhile Mike has rationed out their food on two plates, a bottle of beer next to each of them.

“Are we eating at the table like grown-ups?” Harvey nods at the set-up as he sits down at the dining table.

“Is it always like this when you come home?”

“I don’t know. Usually there’s no one around to enjoy my razor sharp wit.”

“Lucky them. You need to get laid, Harvey.”

“I won’t with the amount of garlic in this pork,” Harvey says around a mouth-full.

Mike grins. “You and me both, then.”

Their banter isn’t real and they both know it. It’s merely a means to avoid the real conversation they should have had when Mike had shown up on his doorstep.

They continue to eat in silence for a while until Mike starts pushing around the food with his fork, clearly not interested in coriander chicken anymore. At last, he drops the fork and it clatters loudly onto the table.

“You’re really not going to ask?” he all but snaps at Harvey

Harvey takes him time to answer. He chews that last bite of pork as deliberately as he can, then washes it down with a swig of his beer.

“We didn’t speak for four weeks. Didn’t think I was prone to such information,” he says at last.

“Can you not be a dick, Harvey?”

“I was hoping you’d come work with me again, but that doesn't appear to be happening. So excuse me if I’m not exactly...”

“If you want me to go, just say it.” Mike is already halfway out of his seat when Harvey speaks again.

“No.” He pauses, then clarifies. “I don’t want you to go. I’m just…”

“You’re angry with me.”

“No. Goddamn it, Mike, will you let me finish one sentence.”

Mike sits down again, lifting his hands in an apologetic gesture.

“I’m not angry with you. I’m disappointed. Not because you’re not taking the job, I understand that, but because you didn’t tell me sooner. I had to hear it from Louis.”

“Louis? I didn’t say anything to Louis.”

“He heard you and Rachel having a ‘situation’.” Harvey makes air quotes around the last word.

Mike lowers his gaze, fingers playing against the rim of his plate. “Right.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Mike shrugs. “I think we broke up so…”

“I mean about the job. What do you want to do?”

Color rises into Mike’s cheeks. “I want to go back to college.”

Harvey can’t help the grin. “And make it legit this time?”

“No, I…” Mike draws in a deep breath for courage. Then he gets up and retrieves a stapled stack of papers. He hands it to Harvey, then slumps down in his chair again. “I want to major in psych.”

Harvey looks from the paper up at Mike, at his wide and suddenly very bright blue eyes, and then back down at the paper. It contains a schedule for the upcoming Spring term at the City University of New York.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but… isn’t the deadline for the Spring semester in mid-September?”

“Missed it by three day due to the whole prison thing. I’m actually signing up for the Fall. I already talked to a few professors. I can sit in their seminars as long as I don’t actively participate. That way I can get a bit of a head start,” Mike explains, and it’s refreshing to see him so enthusiastic about it. “That’s why I didn’t tell you sooner.” Mike sobers a little. “ I didn’t mean to shut you out. I just wanted to be sure it worked out.”

Harvey nods. “I get that.”

“You’ve done so much for me,” Mike continues as if Harvey hasn’t said anything. “I didn’t want to decline your offer because of some half-assed plan. I owe it you to know exactly I’m going to do.”

“Bullshit. You don’t owe me anything.”

“No, I do. I owe you my life, Harvey.”

It’s a simple statement, yet it hangs between them as thick as molasses. Harvey wants to tell him that he owes him jack shit, that he’d do all of it time and again if he had to, but he doesn’t. If Mike needs to see it that way then he’ll let him have it.

“There is something else, though,” Mike says. He doesn’t look Harvey in the eye, a touch of color on his cheeks.

“You need money.”

“How did you know?”

“Face like that? It’s always about money.”

Mike grins at that. “It’s actually about a bike.” When Harvey frowns in confusion, he explains: “I’m going to work as a bike messenger again. That way I can pay for all the material I need.”

“Then I hope you can learn while riding a bike. That’s a lot of pedalling if you want to pay for your tuition on a bike messenger’s income.”

“I was hoping they’d unfreeze my assets by then.”

“And what if they don’t?”

“Then I only have a half-assed plan after all.”

Harvey shrugs. “I’ll pay for you tuition.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I can and I will.” He lets that settle for a moment and takes another swig of beer. “Listen, Mike, if you’d have come to work for the firm again, where do you think the money would have come from? If this is what you want to do instead, then let me pay for it.”

Mike shakes his head. “You can pay for a new bike if you must. Tuition is going to be my issue. End of discussion.”

“First thing you gotta analyze is your need to play martyr.” Harvey picks up his bottle and holds it out to Mike. “To psych 101.”

“To psych 101.” Mike clinks his bottle against Harvey’s. “And thank you.”

“Just get me a receipt when you’ve picked your wheels.”

“Can’t you say ‘you’re welcome’ like a normal person?”

“You’re welcome, Mike.”

 

***

Mike moves in after that. He doesn’t suddenly pull up in a Uhaul truck, chucking his stuff down Harvey’s hallway. It’s more gradual than that.

It’s starts with fresh clothes that slowly fill up the closet in the guest room, and ends up in the delivery from Harvey’s dry cleaners. It continues with personal belongings from Mike’s apartment, little knick knacks Harvey has never paid much attention to over there, but that he immediately notices once they’ve made their way into his condo.

It take nine days for the panda painting to appear above Mike’s nightstand..

That’s when Harvey knows he’ll have to ask the question he’s been avoiding for the past days. He waits until they’ve sat down for another late night take-out dinner and the spices of New York’s best Indian curry have kicked in.

“You’re not going to work it out, are you?”

“Classes haven’t even started yet. Give me a chance.”

“That’s not that I meant.”

Mike smiles wryly. “I know. You’re talking about Rachel.”

“Listen, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. In fact, I don’t know if I want to talk about it, but you’re staying here and I see her at the firm every day, so…”

“It’s okay, Harvey, I… I don’t think we will.” Mike takes a long sip from his beer, buying time. “After I got out of prison, things just haven't been the same. We were kidding ourselves thinking they would be. I mean… I love her. And I really thought we could make it work, get married after all and…”

“Mike…”

“I could never make it right to her, you know? Whatever decision I made, it never seemed to be the right one. She once asked me to leave the firm and go legit, but I didn’t. And then I quit when she wanted me to stay. It’s this… uphill battle that I can’t seem to win.” Another wry smile that doesn’t touch Mike’s eyes. “And let’s be honest, she won’t forgive me for taking the deal and going to prison.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Even if I had the chance, I wouldn’t do anything any different.”

Now it’s Harvey’s turn to laugh a laugh he doesn’t quite feel. “Please tell me you’re not that stupid.”

“I guess I am.”

Harvey looks at him for a long time and he knows that he means it. He raises his bottle. “To dumbass decisions, then.”

 

*

They become a habit for them, the late night dinners.

Most of the time they have take-out that Harvey picks up along the way or that Mike reheats in the microwave when Harvey returns from work late.

Sometimes Mike cooks for them. Nothing overly fancy but it’s a welcome addition to the international cuisine Manhattan throws at them in cardboard boxes.

When Harvey had found him in his kitchen the first time, he mocked Mike. Once he’d tasted the spaghetti sauce Mike had whipped up, though, he had fallen quiet and had set the table without another comment. 

He doesn’t tell him either that it was the best part of his day and that he looked forward to these dinners as soon as he left for work in the mornings.

They don’t talk about work a lot. It only comes up when Harvey gets home particularly late and even then he only gives Mike the Cliff Notes version.

And Mike never asks for more. He’s only once asked about Rachel.

Instead they talk about everyday things, about a movie Mike saw on TV or about a new album they’ve played on the radio, or about something one of them heard on the news.

At first, Harvey had been irritated about it, had wondered whether or not to bring up something that had happened at the firm. But when Mike almost stoically avoided the topic, Harvey had decided against it.

He understands why, or at least he thought so.

 

***

The next thing that happens isn’t quite as subtle as Mike’s books making their way onto Harvey’s shelf.

“Excuse me, Lance Armstrong, what is that thing in my hallway?” he asks when he comes home and all but trips over the racing bike that’s leaning against the cupboard next to the door.

“Nice move, grabbing me right by the fraud,” Mike replies from the kitchen. He’s cooking again. “To answer your question, that is a bicycle. It gets you places.”

“I know that but why is it in my condo?”

“Because--” Mike finally joins him in the hall, wiping his hands on a dishtowel he has tucked into his belt. “-- your building isn’t exactly equipped for storing a bike. If I wanted to park a Maserati, no problem, but this nice set of wheels? Not a chance. Is it a problem?”

“Ask me again when there’s tire treads on the hardwood.”

Mike puts his hands up in defence. “Hint taken. I’ll figure something out.”

“Mike, it’s fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Harvey leaves his keys by the door and takes off his coat. “What are you making?” He gestures at Mike’s makeshift apron.

“Chicken parm on spaghetti.”

“Nice. I’m in the mood for a red. You?”

“Yes, please.”

“Coming right up.” Harvey washes up quickly, getting rid of his his jacket, waistcoat and tie. When he returns, Mike has already set the table. “So how much do you need?”

“Well, let’s just start with that one bottle.”

“I meant for the bike, lippy.” Harvey pours them both a glass and has a sip from his.

“You really don’t need to do that,” Mike says, juggling the baking sheet from the oven.

“I already said I would. So how much?”

“Twelve hundred!?”

“Done.”

“Harvey…”

Harvey leans against the kitchen counter, watching Mike stir a deliciously smelling tomato sauce. “Did you get the job with that messenger service?”

“Yes.”

“So you need the bike. Why are we still talking about it?” Mike opens his mouth to answer but Harvey interrupts him. “And don’t even think about thanking me. It’s getting old.”

“Then I’ll go with ‘rinse the pasta, please’ instead.”

“So he’s bossy in the kitchen.” Harvey does as he’s told, trying not to be too obvious about the little fact that he doesn’t exactly know where he keeps the pasta strainer. “I never asked… who told you how to cook?”

“Grammy.”

Harvey stops in his tracks. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Mike replies but he still has to clear his throat before he can go on. “She didn’t actually teach me. I just… picked it up.”

“You picked it up good.”

“Thanks.”

For the first time since he’s picked Mike up from prison, Harvey sees him laughing.

Grammy has indeed let Mike pick up the good stuff. Dinner is delicious and Harvey tells him so, making Mike blush and smile sheepishly.

Of course he deflects by saying that it’s nothing compared to the Michelin-star-studded restaurants Harvey is used to, and for some reason Harvey can’t tell him that he’d rather have this every night than any fancy crout and brut. When he can’t be, at least this cuisine is honest.

“When does your new job start?” Harvey asks as he clears the table. Another one of these habits they have fallen into.

“Tomorrow actually. My first shift starts at 8.”

“Are you really sure about this? That you want to work as a bike messenger again?”

“I am, yeah. I know it seems like a step backwards, but I think that’s what I need right now. Something… honest.”

Something about that last word is not sitting right with Harvey, but Mike is no shrink yet for him to analyze it. “I get that,” he says instead.

“Do you?” There’s a challenge in Mike’s voice. “I mean, you never asked me why I didn’t come back to the firm.”

“Why didn’t you then?” Harvey cringes at his own tone.

“Being a lawyer was my dream. And you gave me a chance to live that dream.” The challenge is gone now and it’s replaced by something else Harvey can’t place. He isn’t sure if he likes it, either. “I had the most amazing time, and like I said, I wouldn’t do anything any differently.”

“But…” Harvey finishes his wine to wash away the suddenly very bland taste in his mouth.

“But… I can’t shake off the feeling that it’s my fault that the firm broke apart. If it hadn’t been for me…”

“Mike, don’t…”

“No, let me finish. If it hadn’t been for me and the jeopardy I put all of you in... none of this would have happened.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Can’t I?” Mike scoffs. “Harvey, you almost went to prison for me. The firm is gone because of me. Jessica left because of me.”

“She didn’t leave because of you. She left because she wanted to leave.”

“Maybe she did but I can’t… That feeling is still there you know? And I don’t want to be that person anymore, the person who puts other people in danger because of one stupid decision. I need to do something that’s only for me.”

Harvey scoffs now. “Hence you’re new absolutely responsibility-free career choice.” He puts the last piece of cutlery into the dishwasher. “Listen, I told you this before so I’ll only say it just one more time. I am just as responsible as you are. I hired you knowing full well it would get us in trouble. I chose to ignore that risk because that’s who I am. So whatever guilt it is you’re feeling… You’re not alone.”

“Harvey…”

“I will not let you beat yourself up about this.” With a clang, he closes the dishwasher. “End of discussion.”

 

***

It’s the last time they talk like that in weeks.

In fact, they hardly see each other except for a few exchanges over a hurried breakfast or when they somehow end up in the living area together. Mostly Harvey is just coming home from work and Mike is in search for a snack or something to drink. And when Harvey suggests they have a drink together Mike declines because he has an early morning and needs to get some sleep.

When Mike doesn’t sleep like the dead, he is either pedaling away shift after shift or he is holed in with piles of books, scribbling down notes he doesn’t actually need.

What little Harvey does see Mike eat is mostly junk food, and for the briefest of seconds Harvey considers taking up cooking himself. He dismisses that thought quickly; he wants Mike to eat healthy not give him food poisoning.

So the least thing he can do is to make sure the coffee is ready in the morning, that there’s fresh juice in the fridge, and the bagels are toasted.

Mike repays him by bringing enough take-out home so there’s leftovers in the fridge when Harvey comes home.

It’s not just about the food, though.

It’s about Mike.

Harvey has never lived with anyone after moving out from home, he has never shared his place with anyone, and now this has happened.

They have never made it official, there has been no ‘and this is your key’-ceremony. Harvey had just left it on the counter that first morning and that had been it. Somehow, and more or less unbeknownst, Mike’s ‘not just one night’ had turned into almost three months now. He wasn’t just crashing at Harvey’s place anymore. He was living there.

Except that they actually see less of each other now than ever. They had talked more when they had been working together, even when Mike had been in prison. They are drifting alongside each other and whatever brief glances Harvey can catch of him, he sees a fraction less of the Mike he knows.

Mike is running himself ragged between his job and his studies. He may be a genius, but even for him, the  
day has only twenty-four hours and those have him stretching himself thin.

 

*

When Harvey gets the call that all too familiar sense of terror flares up inside of him. He tries to ignore it as a very friendly nurse asks him if he knows a Mike Ross - yes, he does - and if he can come down to Mount Sinai - what happened? - as there has been an accident.

She doesn’t give him any details and even if she does, Harvey wouldn’t have heard them anyway. He’s already out the door and has his coat thrown on at the word ‘accident’ and has flagged a cab before the phone call ends.

The trip to the hospital takes what feels like five hours, and Harvey wants to jump out of the car and walk at least three times.

The ER is bustling with people and it takes him a moment to find the admissions desk.

“Harvey Specter, I’m here for Mike Ross,” he all but barks at the nurse. “Somebody called me. There’s been an accident.”

“Right, let me check.” She types away at her keyboard for what must be half an hour. “Ah, I see, you’re listed as his emergency contact.” More typing. “There we go. He’s been in car accident. There’s a doctor with him right now.”

“How bad is it?”

The nurse scans the monitor again. “He has been admitted with a head trauma and suspicion of a concussion. And he’s a got an arm injury. He’s seeing an orthopedic right now. That might take a little while so if you want to sit down in the waiting area, somebody will come and get you when they’re ready.”

Harvey isn’t sure if he should feel relieved or not. His brain focuses on the ‘not dead’-part but the rest of him is still riding on the edge of panic.

“Whatever he needs, he gets it,” he hears himself say then. “Am I clear?”

“Of course.” The nurse nods, only half-impressed by the slight threat in his voice. “We will take good care of him. Now… the waiting room is right there. Someone will be with you as soon as possible.”

Harvey does as he’s told, if only reluctantly. He retreats into the waiting area, but he can’t sit down. Instead he gets a coffee from a vending machine that tastes like quicksilver, but at least it’s something to do.

Donna calls him then. She doesn’t ask, she just lets him know that she’s cleared his schedule for that afternoon. He thanks her in so many words, then gets himself another coffee.

At last, after what feels like hours and is really just another 45 minutes, another nurse calls out his name and he follows her into one of the examination rooms.

Mike looks pale except for the garish red wound above his right brow that’s patched up with five stitches. That he’s in a hospital gown doesn’t help that rather miserable appearance. And neither does the cast on his right arm.

“What the hell happened?” It’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth, and Harvey knows he probably should have gone for something more sympathetic.

“I’m fine, by the way.” Mike smiles weakly and doesn’t look fine at all. “I had a run-in with an airport shuttle.”

“A run-in? What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

“It means that the guy backed out of a parking space in front of some hotel and clipped me. And now I got a mild concussion and this.” He holds up his arm, showing off the cast. “Partially fractured wrist.”

“Shit.”

“You can say that again.”

“Shit.”

Another smile from Mike, this one a little less pathetic. It turns into a pained grimace and he reaches up to his forehead.

“Does it hurt?”

Mike shrugs with his good arm. “Little bit. They gave me something, but it hasn’t really kicked in yet.”

“Sorry.”

A young doctor enters the room, a clipboard in hand, scribbling on it as he goes. “Ah, you’re Mr. Ross’s emergency contact?”

“Yes, I’m his…” Harvey gets stuck, but thankfully the doctor doesn’t care for further definitions.

“Mr. Ross, thankfully you were smart enough to wear a helmet. CT shows no sign of brain injury, but you do have a mild concussion.”

“Can I go home?” Mike asks, sounding a little alarmed.

“You can as long as someone can keep an eye on you.”

“No problem,” Harvey interjects before Mike can get a word in.

“Good. As you can see, he has a broken wrist. The cast needs to stay on for at least four weeks, then we take another x-ray.” The doctor flips a page of Mike’s file. “What I’m more worried about, though, is that you’re showing rather severe signs of exhaustion and dehydration.”

Mike has his eyes fixed on the doctor when Harvey looks at him. “It’s a stressful job.”

“Maybe you should take this as a sign to take it a little slower for a while.”

“That doesn’t really mix with the job description,” Mike protests.

“I’m afraid it will have to. You can’t ride until your hand is fully healed. So I suggest you take that time to recharge your batteries. And after, you might not want to take any more double shifts for a while.”

“You don’t understand…”

“Mike…” Harvey’s hand goes to his shoulder, gently squeezing down on it.

Mike literally deflates in front of him. His gaze drops to the clunky cast around his arm and he nods slowly. “Fine. As long as I can go home now.”

“On the condition that you won’t be alone for the next seventy-two hours.”

Mike casts a quick glance up at Harvey without really looking at him.

“It won’t be a problem, doctor,” Harvey says.

“All right. I’ll have the paperwork drawn up and I’ll write you a prescription for some pain meds for your arm. Just make sure he doesn’t exhaust himself. He needs his rest.”

Harvey waits until the doctor has left the room. “Nice going, Evel Knievel.”

“Thanks, Florence Nightingale.”

“I’ll call Ray to pick us up. Are you okay to dress yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Harvey doesn’t hear Mike calling after him. He’s on the phone before the door clicks shut behind him. He goes outside to the emergency bay to make the call, and as soon as he hangs up, his phone buzzes again. A chill runs down his spine at the sight of the name and picture flashing on the display. He really can’t deal with any more bad news today.

 

*

“Love you, asshat.” 

“Love you, too, jerkface.”

Harvey turns at the sound of Mike’s voice behind him as he hangs up. Something in the back of his neck prickles and he can’t quite place it.

Mike is dressed again with his hooded jacket just draped over his shoulder, the cast not fitting through the sleeve. He has his backpack slung over the good arm, an envelope with his x-rays in hand.

“I was talking to my brother,” Harvey clarifies.

“He okay?”

“Yeah, just family stuff.” For a moment he hesitates, unsure whether or not to go on. “Listen, I --” Ray pulls into the visitor’s parking space, waving at him. “-- never mind. Let’s go.”

Harvey waits until Mike is safely stowed away in the car before he gets in himself.

They don’t talk on the way home. Mike picks at the bandage around his arm, wincing whenever Ray hits a pothole or turns a little too quickly. Harvey tries to ignore these little sounds as best as he can and tries to focus on the traffic outside, his hands clenching into fists whenever he sees another bike messenger weaving precariously in and out of lanes around them.

“Why are you angry with me?” Mike asks when they enter Harvey’s condo.

“I’m not angry.”

“No, you’re pissed.”

Harvey drops Mike’s backpack by the door. “You’re right. I am pissed. Because you just scared the shit out of me. I didn’t get you out of jail just so you could throw yourself in front of a car.”

“You think I wanted to have that accident? I can’t ride for at least four weeks. Which means I’m not making money for at least four weeks. Which means my entire plan is going to shit. You think I wanted that?”

Mike is yelling now, and it brings Harvey back to that night a few endless months ago when he had been yelling at Mike, trying to get him to toughen up before going to prison.

“Fuck your plan, Mike. And fuck the money. I told you I would pay for your tuition.”

“I don’t want your money.” Mike stalks away from him and into the kitchen. He get a bottle of water from the fridge, tugs it into the crook of his arm and tries to get it open with his left hand. He struggles to do so until Harvey takes it from him and opens it. “I can do this on my own.”

“I understand why you think you have to do this.”

“Do you?” Mike snaps at him.

“Yes, I do. You blame yourself for what happened with the firm. And you think that if you do this all by your little self, nobody else is going to get hurt. But it doesn’t work like that. Even you can’t do this one your own.”

Mike scoffs. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not. I just don’t want to get another one of those phone calls. If you won’t just let me pay for your tuition, we’ll make it a loan. As soon as you get certified you can start paying me back. We can put it in writing.” Harvey looks at him for a long moment. If Mike’s head wasn’t already stitched up, he’d grab him and shake some sense into him. “Mike, please. Let me do this.”

Mike returns the gaze. Slowly, the stubborn set of his jaw softens. His shoulders sag and he wipes the back of his good hand across his eyes, trying to hide the wet glitter in them. “All right,” he says at last, sounding very small. As does his little wry laugh. “It’s not like I have much of a choice now anyway.”

“Not when you list me as your emergency contact.” Harvey tries to match the smile but fails. The terror is still rooted way too deeply inside of him to just let go.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just...”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Harvey interrupts him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m just so… tired.”

“When’s the last time you slept more than six hours a night?”

“It’s not just that. It’s… all of this. It feels like I’ve been awake for the last couple of years, always looking over my shoulder at who might catch onto us. And now that’s over and I’m trying something new… It feels like I always have to be better than everybody else just so they won’t notice I’m just a college dropout with a criminal record. That all this eidetic memory shit is just for show, to score a one-night-stand. That the real Mike Ross is just a fraud and a failure. And I’m tired of fighting against that.”

“Paging Doctor Freud. Will you stop already?” Again there is that urge to just smack Mike up the head. “You are the smartest person I know. Accept for me, of course.” That draws a little smile from Mike. “And I know that it’s not just for show. Maybe this plan didn’t work out. You’ll figure out something else. And you’ll be the best goddamn shrink this city has ever seen.”

Around a watery smile, Mike says, “I actually thought I’d become a counselor.”

“Hey, don’t trump my speech with your technicalities.”

“Sorry.”

Before Harvey knows exactly what he’s doing, he crosses the space between them and pulls Mike into a careful hug. He feels Mike stiffen a little, maybe he has bumped against Mike’s injured arm, maybe it’s something else. But then, Mike slowly returns the embrace.

“You’ll be all right,” Harvey says and it’s more to himself then to Mike.

“Sorry about the bike,” Mike murmurs against the crook of Harvey’s neck, his breath warm against his skin.

“We’ll add to your debt.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” It takes Harveys the longest time to let go of Mike again. “Now get packing.”

“Are you kicking me out?” There’s panic in Mike voice as he takes a step back.

“No. But you’re coming with me to my brother’s for Christmas.”

“What?”

“When he called earlier, he invited me over to his house for the holidays. I was going to go alone but now that you’ve turned into an invalid, you’re coming with.”

 

***

Harvey and Marcus couldn’t be any more different if they tried.

At least that’s what’s written all over Mike’s face as Katie, Marcus’s wife, gives him a tour of the house. He looks around in wonder as if he’s never been in a house in the suburbs, as if he’s never seen a brown leather couch and knitted afghans and the most sparkly Christmas tree north of the Rockefeller Center.

Of course, Marcus had to give Mike the “so you are the famous Mike Ross”-welcome and Harvey had wanted to smack him. Thankfully Katie had intervened. She and Harvey may have gotten off on the wrong foot when Marcus had first introduced them but since she didn’t take neither his nor Marcus’s shit, he had come to respect her. Even more so when she had made Marcus the father of two adorably obnoxious girls.

Mae and Alexis love their dad and Marcus loves them. Today, though, they love Mike even more.

They occupy him the second Katie's mother brings them home from their sleepover and soon enough, his cast is covered in Elsa and Olaf stickers. Of course, he has to recap his accident at least three times, one time with a bit of reenactment, too.

It’s after the Christmas dinner the next day when the girls strongarm Mike into reading A Christmas Carol to them. It’s one of the few books Mike doesn’t know verbatim, so he sits down with them in the living room, with Alexis holding the book and Mae turning the pages.

Katie is making coffee in the kitchen, clearing away the dishes from a spectacular turkey feast, and Marcus pours himself and Harvey a glass of whiskey.

“Thank you.” Harvey accepts the drink, watching the golden liquid swirl in the glass. “And thanks for letting me bring Mike along.”

“Not a problem. The house is big enough. And the girls love him.”

Harvey nods, glancing at the trio. Mike is just doing the Ghost of Christmas Present voice, trying to go for a low, rumbly tone that breaks his voice and has the girls giggle maniacally.

“He’s great with them, yeah.” He takes a sip from his drink, trying to ignore the urge to keep watching them as well as Marcus’s eyes on himself.

“Are you going to tell him?”

Harvey looks at him. “Tell him what?”

Marcus rolls his eyes at him. “Your poker face isn’t really that great, you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know full well what I’m talking about.” Marcus leans in and lowers his voice conspiringly. “Harvey, you have never brought anyone home for Christmas. Not when we were younger, not ever. But you brought Mike.”

Harvey looks at him for a long moment. “Are you out of your mind?”

Marcus grins at him around the rim of his glass. “Since when?” He nods towards Mike and gives Harvey a wink.

“I brought him here because he had an accident and wasn’t supposed to stay alone.”

“Right, but…”

“There is no but, Marcus. I had to promise the doctor to keep an eye on him.”

“And how many people would you make such a promise for?” Marcus presses.

“Not for you, I wouldn’t.”

“Fine.” Marcus holds up his hands in defiance. “If that’s what you want to go with…”

“That’s what I’m going with. Because it’s the truth.”

Marcus nods and remains quiet for a moment. “Harvey, I know you don’t want to hear it so I’m only going to say it this once. Not everybody is like our mother. Stop using that as an excuse. It’s not fair to him either.” He pats Harvey on the shoulder, then rises. “I’ll help Katie with the coffee.”

He leaves Harvey sitting at the table who wishes he had something even stronger in his glass right now. Maybe that would help him ignore the off beating of his heart and the leaden ball forming in the pit of his stomach. Marcus’s words and even more so what he didn’t say still ring in his ears.

It’s ridiculous, really.

The reason Mike is here with them is because he can’t even open bottled water without dislocating something and Harvey did make a promise to that doctor. All perfectly fine reason to bring a friend along for Christmas.

Somehow the word ‘friend’ suddenly sounds very alien in Harvey’s mind. Are they friends? Have they ever been friends? They’ve been conspirators and allies, colleagues and partners on both sides of the legal system. They have been confidants and once even enemies. And of late, they’ve added loanshark, beneficiary and roommates to the list. But they have never been friends.

“Uncle Harvey, come sit with us. The Ghost of Christmas Future is coming next,” Mae calls over to him, tearing him from his etymological revery.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Harvey sits across from them, nursing the remainder of his drink.

“Uncle Mike is doing voices, too,” Alexis chimes in.

“Uncle? Been adopted already?”

Mike grin at him. “Seems like it. The ladies and I have become very good friends.”

“Go on then, Mr Dickens. Your audience awaits.”

Alexis turns the page and Mike continues to read. He really does a great job and the girls practically hang on his lips.

And so does Harvey. He catches himself looking at Mike - and curse his asshole of a brother for putting that bug in his head - and noticing things he’s seen hundreds of times before without actually seeing them.

The way Mike’s eyes roam the page as he reads, the way his mouth curves around the words, his lips twisting into a smile.

When Harvey’s eyes fall to the decorated cast on Mike’s arm, a little chill rolls down his spine.

Mike has gone through so much in the last couple of month, getting arrested, the trial, prison. And he has survived it all. Not unphased, of course, but he has come out on the flipside and he is trying to get his life back together.

And all it has taken has been one unheeding driver to almost take it from him again.

“All right, girls.” Katie's voice actually startles Harvey as she carries a tray with four mugs into the living room. “Time to get ready for bed. You don’t want to be sitting here when Santa comes along, do you?”

The girl whine in protest, requesting just one more page. But it’s to no avail. They hug Mike goodnight first, then Harvey, then they skip off to brush their teeth.

“They are amazing,” Mike says, as he rises and stretches his back. He picks up one of the mugs and hands it to Harvey, then gets himself one as well. “Good listeners.”

“You’re a great reader.”

“Thanks.” Mike takes a tips from his coffee. ”And thank you for this.” He gestures around the living room. “For taking me.”

Harvey shrugs. “Doctor’s orders.”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s… this is the best gift anyone could have gotten me. It feels like my first real Christmas since my parents died. I mean, I had Christmas dinners with Grammy and she always made sure that… that I wouldn’t be sad. Didn’t always work, of course. And when she moved into the nursing home, it wasn’t the same. We had lunch there on Christmas Day but… I guess I kind of missed being in a family. When it is was just her and me.” Mike swallows, then clears his throat. “This feels… like that again. Even if it’s not _my_ family.”

“It is.” The words are out before Harvey’s brain has the time to process them.

Mike looks at him. Long enough for it to become uncomfortable. Then he nods slowly. “Thank you, Harvey.” He hesitates for moment. “I didn’t get you anything, though.”

Harvey doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know what to say. There are a few options, yes, but nothing he feels entirely comfortable with. So he remains quiet and drinks his coffee.

 

***

“Nantucket? Are you out of your mind?”

“If I had a dollar for every time anyone ever asked me this, I could pay the rent for that house in cash.” Harvey pulls the rental onto the parking space at the ferry terminal.

“Seriously, Harvey. Did I fall asleep reading Moby Dick to your nieces?”

“Would you relax, Ishmael?” Harvey gets out of the car and gets their bags from the trunk. Mike follows him reluctantly. “You heard what the doctor said. You were exhausted and sleep-deprived. So I thought you could use the break.” He hesitates for a moment. “Actually, so could I.”

“What about the firm? You can’t just up and leave like that.”

“The firm is still not going to be there after the holidays. Louis can handle what little business we have without me.”

Mike’s good hand closes on Harvey’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. “What is this, Harvey? I have never seen you take more than two days off from work, let alone go on vacation.”

“It’s not a vacation. It’s… an intervention. To make sure you’ll actually stay alive long enough to repay me that hundred grand you’re going to owe me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense and you know it.” Mike lets go of him, actually looking disappointed that Harvey won’t give him a straight answer. Not that Harvey actually knows what the straight answer would be.

“Just get on the goddamn boat, will you?”

 

*

Mike is right. Harvey doesn’t do vacations.

And yet he finds himself on a ferry boat to Nantucket, the booking confirmation in his pocket.

He is still trying to convince himself that his is just a ‘while our bags are still packed’-kind of thing but the truth is a little more complicated that than and nothing he likes to dwell on until they are ashore.

Arriving in Nantucket about an hour later, they take a cab. When the house comes into view, Mike actually elbows him and he has every right to do so. It’s spectacular and the pictures Harvey has seen online don’t do it justice.

It’s easily big enough to house a party of six or eight, with two stories and a patio facing the ocean stretching around two sides of the house.

Harvey gets their bags and pays the cabby. When he joins Mike where he’s still staring at the house, another car pulls into the driveway. A tall woman gets out, clad in a long winter coat. “You must be Mr Specter,” she asks, approaching Harvey.

“Mrs. Nielsson?”

“The very one. We spoke on the phone. I’m handling all rentals of this place.”

“The house is beautiful.”

She nods eagerly. “It is. One of our prime estates, perfect for a little getaway. You’re staying until January 2nd?” At Harvey’s affirmative nod, she pulls an envelope from her pocket. “These are your keys and the code for the security system. Do you need me to give you a tour of the house, or…”

“That won’t be necessary. We’ll be fine.”

“Awesome. If there is anything you need, give me a call. You have my number. Now, enjoy your little..”

“Intervention,” Mike chimes in then and both Harvey and Mrs Nielsson look at him.

“Right,” she says then, a little awkwardly. “Have fun then. And don’t miss the fireworks on New Year’s. Really romantic.”

When she’s gone, Mike pulls a dollar bill from his pocket and hands it to Harvey.

“What’s that for?”

Mike shakes his head still in disbelieve. “You’re out of your mind.”

It’s probably true. Harvey probably has lost his mind. It’s the only explanation why he can’t takes his eyes off Mike as he explores the house, eager as his nieces on Christmas morning, as he claims one of the bedrooms by immediately flopping down on the bed, or as he steps outside to catch a lung full of fresh sea air.

“This is amazing. How did you find this place?” Mike asks as he comes back inside.

“While you were in the joint some smart people invented this thing called the internet.”

“It must cost a fortune.”

“A small one.”

Mike joins him by one of the living room windows overlooking the ocean. “Harvey, why are you doing this? All of this, I mean? Letting me stay with you, Christmas, now this…”

Harvey shrugs, taking the fraction of a step away from Mike. “Because I want to.” He sounds so lame he actually cringes.

“Right.” Mike obviously doesn’t buy it. “Harvey, is this is because you’re still feeling guilty about me going to prison, it’s time to cut it out.”

“Who says I…”

Mike’s hand in the small of his back startles Harvey and for a second, he wants to flee from it but then there’s that curl of Mike’s fingers and Harvey doesn’t want that to stop.

It does stop when Mike steps away from him. “Do you mind if I took a walk? I want to stretch my legs a little, have a look around.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harvey does mind but he doesn’t say that. “If you promise you won’t get yourself killed…” he says instead.

“Where you be the fun in that?”

When Mike is gone, Harvey unpacks his stuff. His phone buzzes with a message from Marcus. The only content is an emoji of a chicken along with the words “Tick, Tock”.

Harvey has never flipped anyone off by text message. Today feels like a good day to start.

 

***

“Sometimes you scare me, Harvey.

Harvey frowns at him. “Why?”

“How did you get a reservation? On New Year’s Eve.” Mike looks around the restaurant that’s packed to the last seat.

“I promised to tip them generously.”

“I can’t let you pay for this.”

Harvey drops the menu. “Is this Groundhog Day or are we actually having the same conversation over and over again?”

“We will if this will make me feel like I’m having a sugar daddy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If I were a sugar daddy, you think I’d pick a convicted fraud for my boy toy?”

That draws a grin from Mike. “Good thing you already got the lingo down.”

“I am a man of mystery.”

“Sure are.” Mike doesn't give him a chance for a follow-up by picking up the menu. “I think I’ll go for the steak.”

Harvey is still digesting that last remark. Off-handed as it may have been, it has struck something inside of him. He just can’t quite figure out what it is.

“Harvey…”

“Steak’s good. Can you handle it with your cast?”

Mike shrugs. “If not, I have you to cut it up for me.”

“Not in this lifetime. You’ll have the soup.”

They do have the steak and Mike manages just fine. He only drops the fork once and the waiter is by his side immediately to get him a new one.

For dessert, there is creme brulee which is to die for. With the last spoonful in his mouth, Harvey catches Mike looking at him.

“What? Something on my face?”

Mike shakes his head, color creeping on his cheeks. “Nothing. Don’t worry.”

“Gentlemen, if you don’t want to miss the fireworks, I suggest you head on out there now,” the waiter says as he clears their table.

“That’s probably the nicest way to kick someone out I’ve ever heard,” Mike rises. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to powder my nose before we go.”

“I’ll wait for you outside.” Harvey pays for their dinner and he does tip generously. When he steps outside, it has started to snow again, not a lot but enough to dust everything with a touch of white. With all the lights and the decorations still up along the streets it looks magical.

At least that’s what Mike calls it when he joins Harvey, struggling into his coat.

Harvey helps him pull the sleeve over the cast as has become their routine over the past couple of days whenever they’ve gone out for some grocery shopping, dinner or coffee. He even ties the extra scarf Mike has gotten from Mae and Alexis around Mike’s hand so won’t actually lose his fingers to frostbite. It’s a ridiculous set up but even Harvey Specter doesn’t argue with his nieces.

They walk down towards the harbour where the street opens up to a little plaza with a gazebo. There’s quite a few people there already, gathering to welcome to the new year.

“I lied,” Mike says suddenly.

“About what?” The hair in the back of Harvey’s neck stand on end and it’s not from the cold.

“There was something on your face earlier.” Mike smiles sheepishly.

“Great, what? Herbal butter? Caramel sauce?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. It was… a look.”

Harvey stops in his track, looking at him incredulously. “A look?”

“Yeah, it was... content.” Mike pauses and looks at Harvey with the scrutiny only he is allowed. “You looked happy.”

“Mike, I….” Harvey doesn’t know what to say. The words come out of sheer reflex without the lick of a clue about where he wants to go with it. But anything is better than just standing there looking at Mike even if that’s what he actually wants to do. Especially when his face is now illuminated by a myriad of colors as the first firecracker explodes in the sky.

Mike turns around then to look up, taking a little step back for a better view and he accidentally leans into Harvey a bit as he does so.

Harvey doesn’t move. His gaze shifts from Mike to the sky and back to Mike.

The fireworks are beautiful, colors and shapes blending into one another from red clouds to golden rain and anything in between. 

What’s even more beautiful though is the look on Mike’s face as he stares up at the sky. He looks up in wonder as if he’s never seen anything like it, his eyes shining very blue even without the pyrotechnical help. And for the first time in months if not years, he looks like the Mike again who stumbled into a job interview with a briefcase full of weed, bright eyed and bushy tailed, like the kid with a heart that’s a little too good for himself, open and honest, the kid who’s always the better man of the two of them.

“I _am_ happy,” Harvey hears himself say over the din of the fireworks.

Mike turns to him as the last golden flickers die out against the night sky and for the first time ever, Harvey can’t read him.

“Happy New Year, Harvey.”

Mike kisses him then.

It’s just a little peck on his lips, really, but it’s enough to wipe Harvey’s mind completely blank for a second.

“Mike…” It comes along a bewildered breath when Mike pulls back from him again.

“Oh shit.” Mike clamps a hand over his mouth. “I’m… shit, Harvey, I’m so sorry. I… I thought… oh fuck.”

“What?”

Mike takes a few hurried steps away from Harvey who still has trouble catching on. “I’m such an idiot. I am so sorry.”

“Why?”

“I… I just kissed you, Harvey. I… I didn’t mean to.” By this time, Mike is already flushed bright crimson. “It’s just that… all of this, the dinner and the… I thought this was a… a date and that you might want… But this is really just an intervention, isn’t it? God, I’m such an idiot. I…”

“Mike, I...” Harvey tries again, finally getting his bearings. “I think I would like that.”

“What now?” It’s Mike’s turn to be utterly confused.

“This… if it was a date… I would like that.”

“Really?”

Harvey looks at him, hoping that Mike understands without Harvey having to say the words out loud. But of course, the kid stops being a genius right this very second.

“Yes. Really. More than you know.”

“Wow.”

A wry little smile steals itself onto Harvey’s face. “Yeah.”

When Mike starts to laugh, Harvey isn’t all that confident anymore.

“You could do without the laugh track, you know? Because this isn’t… I’m serious.”

Mike shakes his head. “I’m not laughing at you. You know I would never… It’s just that… I should have realised sooner. I mean… you took me to your family for Christmas. A family I didn’t even know you had. And for Christmas, for god’s sake, that’s… Mae knew, you know? First night we were staying at Marcus’s... she came up to me and asked how long me and Uncle Harvey had been together.”

“What did you tell her?”

“A few years. It’s hard to tell.”

Finally Harvey matches his smile. “Good answer.”

Mike clears his throat. “So… now that that’s clear, can we… go back to the part where I wish you a Happy New Year?”

“And where you kiss me?”

“Yeah!?”

“I would like that, too.”

“Happy New Year, Harvey.”

This time Harvey kisses him back.

**Author's Note:**

> My prompt was "a romantic New Year's Date"... obviously I took the long way around and I could have gone even longer. Maybe this will get a bit of a sequel or second chapter at some point but until then, I hope y'all enjoyed it.
> 
> Happy Holidays!


End file.
